


Cursed Words

by gogglor



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jumanji-esque shenanigans, Original Riddles, Rated T for swearing, Riddles, bottle episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gogglor/pseuds/gogglor
Summary: A raging storm forces the gang to entertain themselves indoors for the day. A dusty board game called "Cursed Words," found in the Chief's curios cabinet, seems as good a way to pass time as any. What could go wrong?
Comments: 11
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

It was a dark and stormy midday. The remnants of Hurricane Pan were battering the manor and even though it was nothing compared to what had hit Virginia a few days before, it had been enough to knock out the power a few hours before. Or maybe Rita’s curling iron had tripped a circuit, but no one wanted to go out in the rain to the circuit box to find out. In any event it was very stormy and very dark and Jane was making a colossal mess in the Chief’s study, looking for something.

She wasn’t being particularly quiet about it, so it wasn’t long before she had her first visitor leaning on the desk as she went through the shelves on the other side.

“I already went through all this stuff,” said Larry as he fiddled with his flashlight, “nothing but chocolate bars and specimens. Nothing that could lead us to him.”

“I’m not looking for clues, Daphne,” said Jane as she threw a small porcelain vase over her shoulder. Larry tried to catch it but it was so delicate it shattered in his hands, and thus was the last pathway to Shangri-La closed forever.

“Oh come on, no way Larry is the Daphne,” said Cliff who despite his robot body had somehow managed to appear at the doorway hitherto unnoticed. “Larry’s a Velma through in through.”

“What? I am not,” said Larry.

“You’ve even got the glasses, dude!” said Cliff, as he walked into the study, “You’re the Velma, Rita’s the Daphne and I’m the Fred.”

“There you all are,” said a clearly post-workout Vic who was using an orange handkerchief to wipe some sweat from his neck, “Meeting in fifteen. I’ve got a new plan to trap and unmask Mr. Nobody once and for all.”

Everyone else gave Cliff a pointed look.

“So, Jane, are we gonna flip for Shaggy, or--”

“Shut up Scooby,” said Jane, as she turned back to the shelf, “and I found what I was looking for if anyone cares.”

Jane lifted a short stack of long boxes out of a dark corner and placed them on the Chief’s desk, ignoring the stuff that clattered to the floor as she made room for them.

“Who wants to get owned at Monopoly, bitches?” said Jane as she started to pull one of the games from the stack.

“Oh it is _on_ ,” said Cliff.

“Absolutely not,” said Rita who had been wandering the mansion looking for where everyone was and had finally found them, “not after what happened in ‘05. Never again.”

“You’re just sore because you got creamed,” said Cliff.

“I’m _sore_ because someone flipped a table onto my head,” said Rita.

“Whoah, time out,” said Vic, “do I need to remind you all that Mr. Nobody is still out there and the Chief--”

“Oh come on, Vic,” said Cliff, “it’s literally raining sideways out there. And you said the Beard Hunter hadn’t settled in one location yet, right? We can take one day to not search for the Chief, or de-summon an evil sky-eyeball, or fight off robo-nazis, or--”

“Alright, point taken,” said Vic, “how about sparring?”

“Victor, I say this with every kindness,” said Rita, “but I simply cannot believe that as the youngest person in this room by far you have somehow managed to consistently and persistently be the stodgiest killjoy I have ever met.”

“What? I’m not a killjoy,” said Vic.

“Vic,” said Larry putting a hand on Vic’s shoulder, “from one killjoy to another, you absolutely are.”

Vic said, “Ok you know what? Fine. But not Monopoly. The turn by turn mechanics leave little decision space due to the rng of the movement mechanics, the auctioning is basic at best and scripted at worst, the set-collection mechanic only slows the game down, as the game disincentives trading, and the counterplay for losing players usually only extends the game, without effecting the eventual winner. It’s a comically poor system designed to sell nostalgia over a complete and engaging gaming experience.”

There was dead silence in the room, before Vic added, “I can’t have a hobby?”

“How about Twister?” asked Rita.

“No!” everyone else said in unison.

“Poker?” said Larry.

“I’m game,” said Cliff.

“Oh please,” said Rita, “poker against people with no poker face?”

“Better than Twister against the Elastic Woman,” said Larry.

“Wait, what’s that one?” said Vic, indicating the extremely dusty box on the shelf. Jane picked it up and blew some dust off to reveal the title.

“Cursed Words? Doesn’t really sound like the Chief’s kind of game,” said Larry.

“Who fucking cares, it’s a game where I can win by cursing you all out,” said Cliff, “I’m in.”

“I’ve never seen it on any board game forums,” said Vic, “I’m game to try it.”

“Ok, everybody to the living room,” said Jane, “Time to fuck y’all up.”

As they left the study, Larry noticed a piece of paper had stuck to his foot. He peeled it off and tossed it in the trash without reading its contents, which were as follows:

Artifact #18204  
Board game  
Creator unknown  
Possible connection to incidents in Chattanooga (1959), Poughkeepsie (1962), and Saratoga (1970). Confirmed connection to incident in Palm Springs (1971).  
Further study deemed too dangerous to attempt. Under no circumstances should this game ever be played again.


	2. Chapter 2

They gathered in the living room to maximize the faint outside light from the large windows, but they still had to supplement with candles. Rita thought about making a crack about summoning a board game demon but decided that considering their luck she didn’t want to jinx it. Vic was positively giddy digging into the instructions manual, which was short and stained with something that looked like old ketchup.

“That’s fucking weird, there’s only one piece,” said Cliff as he picked up a token that looked like a pawn.

“It’s a collaborative game,” said Vic, “we either all win or we all lose.”

“Then what the fuck is the point!” said Jane as she flopped back on the couch.

“Some of the most creative and engaging board games out there are collaborative,” said Vic as he unfolded the board. If you squinted, it looked a bit like Candyland, with a meandering series of squares leading to “Success!” at one end, and at the other…

“Um, what’s ‘The Pit’?” asked Larry.

“It’s a game mechanic,” said Vic, “the collective piece starts the game the same number of squares ahead of the pit as there are players. So, for us that’s 5 spaces ahead. Each of us are going to take turns reading a card with a riddle, and then we guess its answer. If we win, we move up 1, 3, or 5 spaces depending on the riddle difficulty rating. But after each of us has had a turn reading a riddle aloud, the pit advances by the number of players, so 5 spaces. If it overtakes us…”

Vic squinted at the instructions. Cliff said, “What, do we lose or do we have to do some kind of special bonus hard riddle?”

“It just says, ‘Don’t let the pit overtake you.’ I guess that means we lose if it does.”

“Ugh, this game is not living up to its title,” said Jane.

“Hang on, I’m not done yet,” said Vic, “every riddle has a one-word correct answer. If we get it wrong, the correct answer becomes a ‘cursed word.’ For the rest of the game if any of us say that word or any word that rhymes with it, the piece moves backwards a square.”

“Well that sounds interesting,” said Rita, “I hope you all are regretting making fun of my elocution lessons now.”

“Uh no, definitely not,” said Jane, “C’mon, let’s get this going before Larry catches fire.”

Larry moved his arm away from the candle that had started to smoke his bandages and Cliff set the piece down 5 spaces away from the pit. As soon as Cliff let go of it, it snapped to the center of the square.

“Huh, the board must be magnetic,” said Vic, “but it seems a bit thin for that.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’m going first,” said Jane as she reached for the box of riddle cards and pulled out one with a red background.

“Red means it’s a high-difficulty 5-square card,” said Vic, “maybe you should start with a green one-square card while we get the hang of it.”

“Vic, sincerely” said Jane, “shut the fuck up and let’s play this stupid game.”

Jane turned the one-minute hourglass over as she read.

_A dollar, a deer and a vault,  
And also perhaps then a fault,  
That is passed around,  
Or kicks you to the ground,  
But the White House is where it will halt._

“Could you read it again?” said Vic.

“Here, look at it yourself,” said Jane.

“Whoah, I can’t read the card. The answer is on it,.”

“Um… no there isn’t.”

“Wait, what? Give me that.”

Vic examined the card carefully, flipping it over several times.

“Maybe there are answer cards somewhere in the box?” he said.

“Oh my god, you know what? Forget it, I’m out,” said Jane.

“We literally just started,” said Vic as the last of the sand ran out of the timer, “the first round isn’t even over.”

“Who cares, this game is terrible,” said Jane, “Fuck it.”

It was as if the loudest gong on earth had gone off inside each of their skulls. Everyone was off of their chair and onto the floor, hands on their ears and crying out in pain.

Everyone, of course, except Cliff, who looked around and shouted, “What the fuck is going on!?”

But then it happened again, somehow even worse this time. Rita forced herself up with her arms to look at the board (her legs had turned to goo).

“Wh--” started Vic, but Rita put her hand on his mouth. She pointed with the other hand first at their game piece which had, of its own volition, slid back two squares. Then she pointed to the bottom right hand corner of the board, which a minute ago had been a large blank expanse. Now, however, there was a word burned into it in delicate script.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I had the answers to the riddles at the end of the chapter but then I realized it'd be more cliffhangery to push them to the next. See Chapter 3 for the big reveal!


	3. Chapter 3

_Buck_ , said the board in its far left corner. But the members of Doom manor were quite preoccupied with other things now. 

“Found it,” said Larry as he put the thick tome he’d been reading down on the Chief’s desk. They’d spent the last half hour combing through the Chief’s study looking for anything to tip them off to the nature of the board game they’d been playing. Cliff had spotted the note in the garbage and Jane had found the cache of specimen catalogues, which they’d each been paging through. Vic was furiously reading the game’s rulebook in silence.

“Chief pieced together that Cursed Words was responsible for… wow,” said Larry as he ran his fingers over a photograph on the page, “that is a lot of blood.”

“Well that’s just f--” started Cliff.

Everyone tried to shush him, but Cliff had already finished “--ucking” before he realized what he was saying. Everyone braced themselves for impact, but it never came.

“Hm, it appears the participle is fine, but not the infinitive,” said Rita.

When everyone stared at her blankly, Rita rolled her eyes and said, “Add an -ing to the end and it no longer rhymes with the cursed word. But if you just say--”

Rita fell backwards into a chair as everyone pressed their hands to her mouth. Rita tore them off and said indignantly, “I was going to say ‘the four letter word’ but clearly I’m the only one here who has ever had any practice dancing around things she’s not permitted to speak aloud. It appears there are now some advantages for those of us who prefer tact to forthrightness.”

“Yeah, we get it Rita, you word good,” said Cliff, “anything in there about why we can’t just burn the thing?”

“Rule 19: Any attempt to destroy a game piece is considered cheating and sends the game piece directly to the pit,” said Vic.

“Ok, then we’ll just stop playing,” said Cliff.

“Rule 3: The game continues until the game piece reaches success or the pit,” said Vic, “Meaning we could stop, but we’d have to spend the rest of our lives not saying anything that rhymes with... the word.”

“Fu-dge that!” said Cliff, “C’mon, ain’t no f-” Cliff turned to Rita, “-ing on the end makes it ok right?” Rita nodded, “Ain’t no fucking boardgame is going to take my fucking f-bombs away from me, let’s answer some riddles and show this game who’s boss.”

“Plus there’s 64 of me. One of us has got to know the answer to any riddle the game throws at us,” added Jane.

“The game is limited to 7 players, and considering it’s magic I’m pretty sure it’ll classify each of you as a player,” said Vic.

“Oh my god, Vic, could you stop being such a fucking killjoy for like, 5 minutes?” said Jane.

“Not wanting us to die makes me a killjoy?” said Vic indignantly.

Rita, of all people, stepped between them and put her hands between them as if to separate them. “Before anyone starts to argue,” she said with a sense of urgency, “I’d urge all of you to consider how likely present company could successfully argue without using a certain f word, thus getting us into deeper shit than when we started.”

Jane rolled her eyes. Larry said, “Rita’s right, we have to keep our heads if we’re going to beat this thing. And the less talking we do between rounds, the better. Let’s get back to the living room.”

Everyone circled the game board like it was a dangerous fanged animal.

“Ok,” said Vic, “before we pick a card, let’s all decide together what kind of… and Rita has picked a random card again.”

“Not random, an easy one, see?” said Rita, holding up the green card in her hand, “My dance instructor used to say ‘when you’ve had a setback, build on small successes.’”

“Wasn’t your dance instructor later arrested for laundering some of the mafia’s ‘small successes’?” asked Larry.

“No need to get bogged down in the details,” trilled Rita as she flipped the timer and read.

_As I was passing down the street,  
A scarlet flower I did meet,  
Its eight petals were bonny and gay,  
But what did its milky white center say?_

“Say? What is it a talking flower?” asked Jane.

“Apparently? Hey, everyone here over 80 - any of you ever hear the chief mention a talking flower?” asked Cliff

“Grid’s turning up empty. Must be a metaphor,” said Vic.

“Eight petals… maybe a compass rose?” said Larry.

“The answer needs to be one word,” said Vic.

“C’mon, the timer’s about to run out,” said Jane anxiously.

“Ummm… tulip!” said Rita, “Rose! Poppy! Gerber daisy!”

“Stop!” shouted a London accent from the other side of the room, “Stop playing the game!”


	4. Chapter 4

Willoughby Kipling sloshed into the living room, paying no mind to the trail of puddles his sopping wet coat left behind as he strode purposefully over to the board. He glanced at it, then looked on everyone around it furiously.

“Of all the games that have ever been printed, you wankers had to choose this one,” said Kip angrily, “Do you have  _ any _ idea what you all have gotten yourselves into?”

“Not when we started, but we do now,” said Vic, “And the only way out is through, so--”

“No! Wrong!” shouted Kip, “This game has been beaten exactly  _ never _ in the entire history it has been played and you  _ morons _ just picked it up because it was a  _ rainy day. _ Didn’t Niles teach you anything about the dangers contained in this house?”

“Look, we know we f-- messed up,” said Larry, “but--”

“No buts,” said Kip as he reached for the box the game came in. “I don’t know how many cursed words you’ve racked up already and I don’t care. Erase them from your vocabulary, along with any words that rhyme with them, and tuck this game in a corner so dark no morons could possibly find it. It’s far less dangerous than continuing to play.”

“We can’t--” started Jane.

“Yes, you can,” said Kip. “Tough luck.”

Somehow the sound was even worse from before. When everyone came to, Cliff said, “Something’s wrong. The piece isn’t in the right spot.”

“You’re bloody well right something’s wrong, I’m not playing this game!” shouted Kip with the heel of his palm pressed to his forehead.

“Um,” said Larry, “Where’s the new cursed word for the riddle we all just failed to answer?”

“Hold on,” said Vic, as he pointed his finger at a blank wall, “Grid, play back visual input starting at 14:08 hours. Put it through to the projector.”

The wall was suddenly taken up by the scene of everyone playing the game, only from Vic’s perspective.

“Ummm… tulip!” said projector-Rita, “Rose! Poppy! Gerber daisy!”   
  
“Stop!” Vic’s perspective immediately turned around to face Kip in the doorway, “Stop pl--”

“Grid,” said real Vic, “Play it again at half speed. Everyone, watch the piece on the board,” said Vic.

Kip squinted at the board, and drew back in shock as he saw, in the split second between video-Kip’s comically slow “Sssttoooppp!” and the camera moving over to him, the game piece moving forward two squares.

“It was only a one-square riddle and you just triggered a cursed word” said Vic, “and the game piece starts ahead of the pit the same number of squares as players, soooo...”

“No!” shouted Kip with what sounded like a note of panic.

“...welcome to the shitshow, Willoughby,” said Jane.

“It can’t… give me that riddle card!” He practically tore it from Rita’s hand, read it quickly, put his hand on his eyes and said, “I’ve been roped into this godforsaken game because you morons don’t know what a stop sign is?”

“To be fair, we use flags in car races,” said Cliff, trying and failing to lighten the mood.

“Hold on,” said Larry, “If Kip was playing from the moment he said ‘stop,’ how come when he told us to… to T-U-C-K this game away, we didn’t slide back a square?”

“What? Oh no, that can’t be--” said Kip, as he immediately went to look at the cursed words. The color immediately drained from his face.

“That’s right, no more f-bombs until we finish,” said Larry, “Except apparently ‘tuck’ is--”

When everyone came to, Kip was the most furious.

“Are you telling me,” he said through gritted teeth as he stood up, “that you imbeciles started playing this game and  _ didn’t read the rules first?” _

“I did,” said Vic, shaking his head to get rid of the last reverberations of the curse, “if a player answers a riddle correctly they get one free pass on a cursed word. Which is why Kip’s t-word was fine but yours got us cursed again, Larry."

“Well that would’ve been nice to know about 45 seconds ago,  _ Vic _ ,” said Larry, the heel of his palm still pressed to his forehead.

“I figured I’d  _ get to it _ when it came  _ up. _ Which it  _ did, _ and I  _ did. _ ” said Vic.

“I’m going to die,” said Kip matter-of-factly, “I’m going to die and it won’t be were-bats, or chainsaw nuns, or lightning assassins that do me in. It’s going to be a bloody board game with a riddle about a stop sign. I don’t believe this,” said Kip as he sank onto the couch and put his head in his hands.

“Well, start believing it,” said Rita, “because from where you chose to sit it’s your turn next.”

Kip looked up at the ceiling and muttered, “they’ll never find you, Niles, because I’m killing you first,” before he reached over and picked up a red card.

“I think--” started Larry.

“We’re 2 squares in the hole, and we need to make them up if we’re going to survive,” said Kip, “and if you’re too stupid for a red card, which, let’s be honest is likely from this lot, Vic and Cliff can choose easier cards on their turns.”

“How do you--” started Jane.

“Nope, reached my quota on stupid questions today. Reading the card now,” said Kip.

_ I move in the shape of a graceful letter, _

_ And yet I’ll kneel before my better, _

_ You see naught but my graceful head, _

_ But if we touch, one of us is dead _

“Does… does this make sense to literally anyone here?” asked Cliff.

“Of course not, you idiot, it’s a riddle. You have to figure it out before it makes sense,” said Kip, but halfheartedly. He was chewing a nail as he focused on some point in middle distance, brow furrowed in thought.

“Ok um… maybe… a bust? Or a coin? You might only see heads for a coin,” said Cliff.

“Someone who kneels like in church?” said Jane.

“Too abstruse, the answer needs to be one word,” said Kip.

“We know this game prefers metaphors to more concrete facts,” said Larry, “what’s a metaphorical way you could kill something?”

“Um, I dunno… throw it out, like garbage?” said Kip.

“What about, making it an outcast socially?” said Rita.

“God I hate this game,” said Cliff.

Vic slammed his fist on the couch arm, cracking the wood beneath it. “Game! Cliff, you’re a genius! I know what it is!”

“Well say it, asshole, or we’re all about to get cursed!” shouted Kip as he watched the timer come to its last grains of sand.

Vic shouted his answer just as the timer ran out.


	5. Chapter 5

“A knight!” shouted Vic just as the timer ran out.  
  
Everyone watched the piece with baited breath. For a fraction of a second it quivered, as if deciding whether the answer had come on time. When it moved forward five squares, everyone was vocally relieved.

“That,” said Larry, “was too close.”

“You’re damn right it was too close,” said Kip, removing a flask from his coat and taking a swig, “I was this close from having to banish ‘shite’ from my vocabulary, on top of that other word. If the next answer is ‘banker’ I might as well never speak again.”

“Wait… I don’t get it,” said Cliff.

“You’ve never played chess?” asked Jane.

“Wh-- yeah I have!” said Cliff.

“Name one piece on a chess board,” said Jane.

“...a knight,” said Cliff.

“We’re doomed,” muttered Kip, elbow on the couch side and hand on his face.

“Are we, though?” asked Larry, “I mean, we’ve only got one cursed word so far, and that was before we realized what kind of game this was. Maybe we can beat this th--”

“Shhh!” interrupted Kip with some urgency. “Don’t say things like that in front of it!”

“What? Why?” said Larry.

“The game is always listening, and it hates hubris. It’s not impossible that it’ll change the rules to punish you for it,” said Kip.

“Wh-- oh come  _ on! _ ” said Vic, “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious,” said Kip, “the players in Saratoga almost made it to the end until one of them decided to call it--” Kip turned and addressed the board, “I’m quoting what they said, not implying it’s true,” Kip turned back to Vic, “‘Bitchy Candyland,’ and then suddenly there were a thousand more squares on the board. They lasted a week before they were overtaken.”

“How the  _ fuck _ are we supposed to strategize if the rules can change like that!?” asked Vic angrily.

“Vic, you idiot, you just wasted your cursed word pass!” said Jane.

“Yeah, might want to calm down there a bit, buddy,” said Cliff, who noticed the card box starting to rattle a bit.”

“This is  _ bullshit," _ said Vic, “this game can suck--”

When the sound subsided and everyone got back in their chairs, Cliff gestured angrily at the riddle cards, “God dammit, Vic, look what you did.”

Before, the riddle cards had been divided into an easy, medium, and hard section. Now, there was only one section - hard.

“‘Oh boy,” said Kip in a high pitched mocking voice, “thanks for the warning Kip. Golly gee, if we hadn’t listened to you we might’ve done something incredibly stupid before it was too bloody late.’ For f-- frick’s sake, why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?"

“I’m sorry,” said Vic, still angry but now at himself, “I uhm… I have strong opinions about board games.”

“Yeah, well, keep’em to yourself from now on,” said Kip, “speaking of which, it’s your turn. And considering you just royally pissed off the game, this one’s gonna be a doozy.”

“That’s ok. We can do this,” said Vic, as he pulled out the next card.

_ My favorite friend has come to chat, _

_ Politely he takes off his hat, _

_ And shows us all a talent rare, _

_ With curious shapes within his care, _

_ Place a cross upon his head, _

_ He turns as hard as week-old bread, _

_ Move the cross then to his feet, _

_ An obligation he will meet, _

_ Remove the cross and add a moon, _

_ He’ll hack and wheeze like a baboon, _

_ But once we’ve all had our good fun, _

_ Return the hat where it’s begun, _

_ He’ll perform his name ere he depart, _

_ Tell me what it is, dear heart? _

“Hooooooly shit,” said Cliff, “that’s a lot of riddle.”

“I need to read it again,” said Rita, taking the card.

“Yeah, so do I,” said Larry, taking the card from Rita.

“This is insane, we can’t answer a riddle like that in a minute,” said Jane.

“Well we’ve got to try, don’t we?” said Kip, “Now, what could a hat mean?”

“Uhhhh… a baseball cap? Cowboy hat?” said Cliff.

“Too literal,” said Rita.

“Rita’s right,” said Vic in exasperation, “It could mean the top of something, or the hair of something, or the head of something. It could mean anything!”

“Alright, what do you do before you leave someplace then?” asked Larry.

“You could… say good-bye, shake hands, hug if you’re a hugger…” said Kip.

“None of that matches the rest of the riddle,” said Vic, “Ok everyone, just say a bunch of your favorite words because we are out of time.”

There were a brief few seconds of everyone shouting “tits!” and “antidisestablishmentarianism!” before the last of the sand left the glass.

There was dead silence, before the corner of the board started to smoke as a new word burned into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like last chapter, the answer will be the first word published in the next chapter. If you're reading this after it's complete, just press the "next chapter" button and it'll be right at the top. Everybody else will just have to puzzle it over. Feel free to make your guesses in the comments!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ain't nothing like busting out the custom work skins to get your fanfiction chapters to work. To folks who're reading this with assistive technology - there's a table in this chapter contrasting two things happening at the same time. The only thing you're missing out on is that I structured the CSS so that each line lines up such that you can see how each event as its described in-cell effects the events in the other cell. You lose a bit of the effect reading one cell at a time, but not to an extent that you can't get the idea of it, especially if you go back and reread each cell.
> 
> If I get any comments asking how this riddle answer makes sense, I'll post an explanation in an end of chapter note.

_Bough_

“What the--” said Vic, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t get it either,” said Larry.

“How--” started Jane, and everyone was writhing in agony again.

“Jane,” said Rita through gritted teeth.

“I thought it rhymed with ‘go’!” shouted Jane.

“Are we just too dumb for this game?” asked Cliff.

Kip stood up, “Could everyone please follow me to the window?”

Kip reached into his coat and pulled out an Expo marker.

“What artifact is that? What does it do?” asked Cliff.

“It’s a dry erase marker, it writes things so we don’t forget them.”

Kip _said_ these things, but what he wrote on the window was, “I think game listens, but doesn’t see. Want to test, could be helpful if right, but I might be wrong. Ok?”

Everyone looked around at each other, and then nodded their assent. Then they braced themselves as Kipling wrote down the word, “Fuck.”

Nothing happened.

“Oh thank _god,_ ” said Rita, before she remembered herself, “that you brought something to write with, Willoughby. I’m terrible at remembering details.”

WHAT WAS SAID

“Larry, you’re up next,” said Kip, “I know they’re all hard cards n-- presently, but since you’ll be the first one reading the card you’ll have a head start on all of us in getting the answer. How good are you at riddles?”

“Kinda bad,” said Larry, “this is a really wonderful game that I like playing a lot but I’m just no good at it.”

“Ok,” said Rita, “Maybe we should read all the books in the manor before we continue. If we generally know more we can answer better.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Jane, “I can spend some time talking to my personalities, learning stuff.”

“Maybe we should all tell the game ho-- that it’s a great game,” said Vic, “It might go easy on us, not that we deserve it. It’s worked so hard giving us a complete gaming experience.”

“Oh for f--- Cliff, give me the marker, you’re slow as hell at taking notes,” said Kip.

“Hey, fu---nk you,” said Cliff, “I have stuff to contribute.”

“And I want to _hear_ it,” said Kip, “What ideas do you have to _say_?”

“Fffffine. We could… try to make friends with the board. We could… try to teach it to be good and kind and not throw us in a pit. We could... try to convert it to Mormonism, or the cult of the recreator, or any other religion that doesn’t throw people in pits. Hey, you wonder why it’s called ‘the pit,’? Do you think it’s like, hell or something? Or do you think it’s like the board game version of hell, where the worst thing that can happen to you is getting coffee spilled on you. But I’m just babbling now, maybe somebody else should say something, y’know? Take some of the pressure off me.”

“I have an idea,” said Larry.

| 

WHAT WAS WRITTEN

Kip: We are too dumb for this game. Agreed?

Everyone nodded.

Kip: Any ideas to stop playing? Larry, say something flattering. Might get easy riddle.

Vic: Rules say game can’t be destroyed. Magic way to kill it?

Kip: Too powerful. Nothing can without killing us too.

Jane: Gary Gygax’s dice set can’t kill it?

Kip shook his head sadly

Rita: Who is Gary Gygax?

Cliff: | - | | =

Kip yanked the marker from Cliff

Kip: Cliff, you talk. Leave writing to us. Just don’t say a cursed word. Ok?

Cliff made like he was going to start something, but once it was clear everyone was with Kip, Cliff grudgingly relegated himself to talk duty.

Vic: What if we trick it?

Kip: What do you mean?

Vic: Make it think we broke a rule when we didn’t. Game curses us when it shouldn’t. That means game is cheating.

Rita: How can we do that?

Larry straightened. He walked over to Rita, grabbed the marker, and wrote something in huge letters on the window. As soon as everyone saw it, they nodded enthusiastically, and Kip got to work.  
  
---|---


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, the thrilling conclusion. Thanks to everyone who left a review or a kudos, it's great knowing there are actual real humans who enjoy reading this stuff.

Four hours later, Rita, Jane, Cliff, Larry, Vic, and Kip were sitting inside a cozy but deserted book store.

They’d spent the last hour arranging the books inside into easy-to-navigate sections. Animals here, plants there, minerals there, linguistics there. And of course, every book on riddles was front and center, within easy reaching distance. They were as prepared as they could possibly be, but they still felt woefully unprepared.

“You’re sure they’re on board with this?” said Vic, eyeing the people outside who, in spite of their warnings to stand back in case the game became particularly spiteful, practically had their noses pressed to the window.

“They owe us a favor,” said Larry, as he drew the next card, “Don’t worry. Just stick to the plan.”

_I can go near, I can go far,_

_Yet cannot move - I’m quite bizarre_

_A thousand names do grace each hair,_

_Which split to roots, but do not tear,_

_I fear the ice but not the flame,_

_Thus ends my poem: say my name_

“Ok, what goes somewhere but doesn’t move?” said Vic.

“Like a stamp?” asked Jane.

Kip eyed her before glancing at the board. The piece didn't move. “No, but I think it’s something similar. Let's not forget to use the books,” said Kip, pointedly.

“‘Split to roots’ - could that mean it divides?” said Rita.

“Yeah, something that splits apart that goes places, but doesn’t move, and that breaks up with ice…” said Kip.

“Going places but not moving reminds me of racing. Where are the books about cars and what you need for cars to race each other?”

asked Cliff.

“That bit about the hairs - do we have a book about names? I can start with last names and then move to first.” said Larry.

“No time, let's see if there's a similar riddle,” said Kip, as he reached for a nearby book of riddles. Then his hand paused in mid-air.

“Good idea to move to this place, Larry - I think it’s giving me an answer,” said Kip, as he pulled out a book next to the riddles section, _The Street,_ by Ynad LaRue. “The answer to the riddle is a _road,_ or a _street.”_

Nobody moved. And then, sure enough, the game piece advanced 5 spaces.

“I know it might be wasteful,” said Kip, “but I’d like to take this opportunity to say FUCK. YEAH.”

When nothing happened, Cliff straight up punched the air.

“We did it! We beat it!” shouted Cliff.

The game box started vibrating again, as if it was warning against further hubris.

“Oh no, _Monopoly from hell,_ you do _not_ get to pull that bullshit again.” said Cliff, bending over talking straight to the game, “This game is _over,_ because _we_ caught _you_ breaking the _rules._ Isn’t that right, Vic?”

“Rule 7: Cheating immediately places the guilty party into the pit,” recited Vic, “Cheating includes anything against the rules, which you, Cursed Words, did not follow when Kip said a cursed word and nobody got punished.”

“I’m sure you must be very confused at the moment,” said Rita, “which is why I would like to introduce you to our seventh player whose timely book provided the answer to our last riddle: _Danny the Street.”_

A banner descended from the ceiling of the book shop that read “What’s up, Cursed Words?”

“Evil sentient board game, meet awesome sentient street,” said Larry.

Cliff mocked, “Oh no, I need a book about _car racing,_ hey let’s look up some _last names._ Danny, I know when we got here you said you were crap at riddles but you take hints like a _champ.”_

The rule book flew out of the box and opened to the last page.

“Rule 57: Players must say the answers to their riddles aloud unless they physically cannot do so, in which case they must communicate the answer to another player, who can say the answer aloud after identifying the player who provided it,” read Rita.

“Grid, start the projector and play back 45 seconds ago,” said Vic, pointing his finger at a wall Danny had left bare for exactly this purpose.

“Good idea to move to this place, Larry - I think it’s giving me an answer,” said video-Kip.

“Fact 1: Danny cannot talk. Fact 2: Danny _is_ this place. Fact 3: Kip identified the answer as _coming from this place,_ aka Danny,” said Vic, _"_ _We_ followed the rules. _You_ did _not.”_

Suddenly, the game board started curling up at the corners, as though there were an invisible straw under the center of the board sucking it down.

“Enjoy the pit, wannabe Jumanji!” shouted Jane, as the game ultimately collapsed on itself going down, down, down, and then was no more.

“Danny,” said Larry, “From all of us, _thank you.”_

The book on the table opened to a random page in its center, which said, “Any time, Larry.”

Vic gave the thumbs-up to the Dannyzens watching anxiously outside the window, who all cheered.

“Now,” said Kip, who winced, before remembering -ow words were no longer cursed, “Now, I don’t know about you, but I would very much like to get drunk.”

“How do you feel about karaoke?” asked Larry, as they walked toward the cabaret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, I've written several other Doom Patrol fanfics as well. Go check'em out!
> 
> I want to leave you with two things that didn't make the final cut of this story. The first is that Danny is the Mystery Machine and Kip is Scrappy Doo. The second is something to take with you on your way:
> 
> Breaks out like acne or cracks like an egg,  
> And is often seen when pulling a leg.


End file.
